


Keep the Faith

by mevima



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blasphemy, Crisis of Faith, M/M, Modern AU, Priest!Crowley, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima
Summary: Father Crowley isn't sure God is listening any more. Fortunately, the angel Aziraphale has come to show him the way.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 82





	Keep the Faith

The glass cup shattered when it hit the wall, and Crowley cursed. Short-sighted. Now he would have to clean it up, all because he couldn't control himself.

It was becoming harder to control himself these days.

Every day brought new atrocities, new horrors, new ugliness seeping through the world like a plague. Watching the news depressed him, but he couldn't very well do his job without being aware of current events, so he gritted his teeth through it and took solace in as much alcohol as he could stand. After decades of practice, Crowley could stand an impressive amount of alcohol.

Of course, every Sunday he was back in church, sober or close to it, giving the sermon like usual. He had responsibilities that he couldn't just abandon, no matter how he felt about the state of the world.

No matter how he felt about God, for that matter.

And that was the crux of it lately, wasn't it? The world was failing, falling apart, and God did _nothing_. No matter how much faith a man had, it eventually falters when struck enough blows. So in a painfully sober moment, instead of watching his faith shatter, Crowley had tried shattering a glass instead.

Unsurprisingly, it hadn't worked. Now he had a crisis of faith _and_ a flat full of broken glass, and he still had to pick up the pieces of both.

He muttered angrily to himself as he fetched the broom, shoving fire-red hair out of his eyes. But as Crowley knelt to sweep the last bits of broken glass into the dustpan, a sudden flash of light blinded him, and he fell on his ass with a shout.

"Oh dear, terribly sorry about that." The voice was soft and kind, a little flustered and faintly masculine, which belied the fact that there shouldn't have been a voice in the first place; Crowley had been alone in his flat a moment ago.

Blinking bright spots away, Crowley shielded his eyes and looked around. Someone took him by the elbows and he made a strangled noise of protest before realizing he was being helped to his feet. The hands stayed on him, an alarming but steadying presence while Crowley slowly regained his vision, until he was finally able to see the serene blond man standing in front of him.

As soon as he was focusing properly, the man removed his hands, folding them neatly in front of him with a cheery smile. "Well then!" he said by way of greeting. "That was a bit more explosive than I'd planned on. Just a tad out of practice, I think."

"Who... are you?" Crowley asked slowly, taking a step back to put himself against the nearest wall. There was something vitally important he was missing here.

"Yes, of course. Introductions! I am Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and an angel of the Lord. And _you_ are Father Crowley, a shepherd of the flock. Be not afraid." Aziraphale lifted his chin, looking rather pleased with himself.

Crowley gaped at him. "An... angel?" Despite the lack of wings and halo, he found that strangely easy to believe. From Aziraphale's striking entrance, to the aura of peace he radiated, to the cream-colored outfit he wore which looked long out of its time - it was the easiest thing in the world to believe that the strange man standing in his living room was actually an angel. "Am I... should I... kneel? Bow?" Crowley asked uncertainly. He couldn't recall learning about any sort of protocol for the sudden appearance of an angel whilst one was having a breakdown, but maybe he had missed that day in seminary.

"Please don't!" Aziraphale sounded almost offended by the question, his fluffy curls bouncing as he shook his head. "I'm here to help you, Crowley. The Almighty has heard your distress."

"Ngk." Crowley grimaced. What a thing to press on Her, his tiny, petty, mortal quibbles. "Sorry. Didn't mean to... ah, bother Her."

Aziraphale made an amused huff. "Trust me, dear boy, She has an infinite capacity for concern."

Discomfort melted away into the indignant anger that was never far from his grasp lately. "Then why's the world going to shit?" Crowley snapped, then covered his mouth with a choked noise. Here he was, demanding answers of an _angel_, for Christ's sake. He felt blasphemous, his own audacity overwhelming.

Sorrow of the deepest quality crossed Aziraphale's face. "Humans must be allowed their free will," he said, an explanation that sounded rote. "Heaven cannot interfering with that."

"How is that fair?" Crowley whispered, though his voice grew louder with every word. "How can you all just stand by while people die – while _children_ die for no reason? Free will?! They've barely had a chance to live!" He found his hands clenched at his sides, furious; finally there was someone in front of him he could take it out on, finally someone who might _listen_ \- but the angel sagged as Crowley's tirade went on, and he floundered.

Aziraphale's shoulders drooped, then he seemed to fortify himself. "It's not fair. I'm sorry. So many things aren't fair. You must simply trust in the ineffability of the Great Plan. But God's love encompasses all, nonetheless, and the lost children are taken into Her domain."

"Tell that to their parents," Crowley retorted bitterly. "Tell that to their _families_."

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale repeated. He closed the distance between them and enfolded Crowley within his arms, a soft, sweet embrace that Crowley resisted for only a moment. Then he relaxed, letting himself feel the comfort that came of being hugged by an actual, real-life angel.

Aziraphale smelled like fresh rain and he felt like clouds, and despite not having received any real answers, Crowley breathed easier at his touch. Having the attention of an angel was comfort and grace and all the things Crowley thought he 'd never have again - but it was also chafing. It was the kind of attention that could hollow you out and leave you a husk to blow away in the wind. Crowley shuddered and tangled his hands in the front of Aziraphale's vest.

That beautiful presence began to pull away, and Crowley made a noise of protest in spite of himself, but Aziraphale didn't go far; he cupped Crowley's face in his wonderfully soft hands, and smiled beatifically at him. It was strange that an angel would be shorter than a human. Not by much, but Crowley was blinking down at him while Aziraphale stood on tip-toes to press a kiss to Crowley's forehead.

"God's love endures, my pretty priest," Aziraphale said, like a blessing.

Not a thought was in Crowley's head when he leaned forward, the scant inches disappearing between them. Their mouths fit together like wonder, like prayer – like a blasphemy that Crowley was helpless to prevent. He should apologize, he should prostrate himself, beg for forgiveness for profaning a holy being, except that very holy being was kissing back quite happily, a pleased noise humming in his throat.

When Crowley did separate himself, it was by scant atoms, enough to breathe tentatively, "And is this included in Her love?"

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale smiled against his lips, a soft brush that sent a shiver down Crowley's spine. "If you wish it, yes."

This wasn't something Crowley had ever hoped for – nothing he'd even _imagined_ – but when Aziraphale took him by the hand and led him to his bed, it was all he'd ever wanted, the fulfillment of every hope and dream he'd ever had in his short, human life. When Aziraphale laid him gently down, Crowley had a glimpse of what divine grace could mean.

And when Aziraphale kissed him again, deep and gentle and insistent, Crowley knew nothing could ever compare to this moment. This little spot out of time which he had stolen for himself by crying out to God.

The angel reached to unfasten his trousers, and Crowley gasped, both protest and anticipation. Aziraphale devoured him in response, sliding a perfect tongue insistently against his lips, and making a happy little groan when Crowley opened helplessly to allow him in. He had never known, Crowley thought dizzily, that angels could _groan_.

But then Aziraphale finished unfastening his trousers and pulled his cock out, wrapping a firm hand around the girth of him. Crowley shook, and whimpered, and Aziraphale hovered over him almost possessively, tongue diving deeper into his mouth to consume his cries, hand working soft and strong and steady and somehow slick.

Crowley moaned into an angel's mouth, and shook apart in an angel's arms, and came over an angel's hand. He didn't know if it was wrong, but how could it be, when the angel himself had brought him to this? Pure, divine ecstasy rocked through him, barely contained in the jittery thrusting of his hips, and Aziraphale took in every desperate sound for endless moments until Crowley calmed, sated and panting.

Aziraphale was smiling at him when his vision cleared, unruffled but for the blush high on his cheeks and his reddened lips. "Beautiful," Aziraphale murmured, smoothing Crowley's hair out of his face.

"Don't leave," Crowley replied, a plea he couldn't quite hold in.

"I have work to do," Aziraphale said apologetically, sitting up before gracing him with another warm look. "But perhaps I'll come back later. I wouldn't want my favorite priest feeling abandoned."

If their previous activities hadn't left Crowley flushed, he was surely blushing now. Aziraphale winked, snapped his fingers, and was gone in another flare of light, leaving Crowley feeling centered, confident – and, strangely enough, loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt "Confession" during Ineffable Inktober. Come see me on [Tumblr](http://mevima.tumblr.com)!


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